Umberto Eco: 'People are tired of simple things. They want to be challenged'

"As a scholar I am interested in the philosophy of language, semiotics, call it what you want, and one of the main features of the human language is the possibility of lying. A dog doesn't lie. When it barks, it means there is somebody outside." Animals do not lie; human beings do. "From lies to forgeries the step is not so long, and I have written technical essays on the logic of forgeries and on the influence of forgeries on history. The most famous and terrible of those forgeries is the Protocols."

"Berlusconi is a genius in communication," says Eco. "Otherwise he would never have become so rich. From the beginning he identified his target – middle-aged people who watch television. Young people do not watch television; they are on the internet. The people who support Berlusconi are 50- and 60-year-old ladies and retired people, who, in a country with an ageing population, make a powerful electoral force. So even some of his famous blunders may be blunders for me and you, but probably for the provincial 60-year-old lady or gentlemen they are not. His appeal was 'pay less taxes'. When the premier says you are right not to pay taxes, you are pleased."

How could a culture as intellectual and artistic as Italy's have elected such a buffoon? "Berlusconi was strongly anti-intellectual," he says, "and boasted that he hadn't read a novel for 20 years. There was a fear of the intellectual as a critical power, and in this sense there was a clash between Berlusconi and the intellectual world. But Italy is not an intellectual country. On the subway in Tokyo everybody reads. In Italy, they don't. Don't evaluate Italy from the fact that it produced Raphael and Michelangelo."

It happened to me as it happens to people when they fall in love. 'Why did you fall in love that day, that month, with that person? Are you crazy? Why?' You don't know. It happens."

Life, like fiction, is a wonderful game.

He has called books "the corridors of the mind"

The fact that he can accommodate everything from illuminated manuscripts to iPads is typical. He is optimistic, eclectic, eternally young, interested in everything, as at home discoursing on Peanuts as he is on Proust. I ask him how he will be remembered – as novelist, critic or polymath? "I leave it up to you," he says. "Usually a novelist has a longer-lasting life than an academic, unless you are Immanuel Kant or John Locke. Illustrious thinkers of 50 years ago have already been forgotten."

So is he resigned to being remembered for The Name of the Rose rather than his contribution to semiotics? "At the beginning," he says, "I had the impression that my novels had nothing to do with my academic interests. Then I discovered that critics found many connections, and the editors of the Library of Living Philosophers decided that my novels had to be taken into account as a philosophical contribution. So I surrender. I accept the idea that they match. Evidently I am not a schizophrenic."

In the name of ROSE

source: theguardian